


not yet friends

by kickedshins



Series: twitter prompt fills [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Angry Kissing, F/F, Season/Series 03, they make out in a graveyard after patrol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25818601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickedshins/pseuds/kickedshins
Summary: “Finally snapping?” Faith asks.“Shut up,” Buffy says through gritted teeth, and she kisses her.orBuffy and Faith don't have a very successful patrol night.
Relationships: Faith Lehane/Buffy Summers
Series: twitter prompt fills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1864984
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61





	not yet friends

**Author's Note:**

> yeah yeah every fuffy writes at least one hate-makeout-in-a-graveyard fic here's my first ever one. it probably won't be my last. the prompt for this one was things said thru teeth.

“Nice goin’, B,” Faith says. Sarcasm spills out of her mouth like venom, and Buffy wants nothing more than to slap her. She doesn’t, though, because she’s a good person, and Faith is an alright—albeit frustrating—person, and friends don’t slap friends, and they’re friends, right? Buffy’s pretty sure that they’re friends at this point.

“Well,” Buffy says, flippant and breathy, “you know how it is. Can’t let them win every fight, can we? They’d just give up, and where’s the fun in that?”

“Something tells me that you weren’t just playing with your food there.”

“Right, because I don’t know how to have fun?”

Faith throws her hands into the air, stake nearly grazing her neck on its ascent. “Not what I meant, B, and you know that.

“It’s not as if you haven’t lost vampires before. Don’t be hypocritical.”

Faith wags her stake at Buffy. “SAT words do not a winning argument make.”

“They usually do with Willow.”

“Willow’s usually the one using them. I think that’s just a matter of her being smarter.”

“Faith,” Buffy says, face falling. “That was totally unwarranted.”

“Yeah, well, it’s kinda accurate,” Faith shrugs. She stretches leisurely, as if she wasn’t harping on Buffy for not being on top of her game just seconds ago, and somewhere in between Faith’s cocky grin and the sliver of her stomach that shines in the moonlight, Buffy thinks that maybe they’re not yet friends.

“You don’t have to be like that,” Buffy tells her.

“Like what?”

“In a word? Bitchy.”

Faith snorts, leaning further into her stretch. “Yeah, and you don’t have to be so tightly-wound, but we’ve all got our quirks.”

“Jesus, you’re so—” Buffy struggles with herself for a moment, searching for the right thing to say. “Difficult. You’re so difficult sometimes. You know that, right?”

“I told you all that I work better on my own. Teamwork ain’t exactly making the dream work with us, is it?”

“But it can,” Buffy insists. “We just have to—”

“Hold hands and dance in a circle and sing about happy happy good times?”

“You’re impossible.”

“Many a man has told me that before, but I never really believed it until now. Keep talking,” Faith says, lids low and voice lower, and Buffy feels like she’s hit a bump in the road at much too fast a speed.

“Really, though. We’ve worked well together before. We’re having a bad night.”

Faith stands up straight, tugging the bottom of her jacket down so that it’s even. She throws her hair over her shoulder and demands, “We? There is no  _ we  _ here, Summers. You’re having a bad night. Don’t lump me in with you.”

“This is infuriating!”

“You’re telling me,” Faith hisses. “If I wasn’t so worried about ruining your pretty little face, I’d’ve jumped you by now.”

And Buffy’s pretty sure she means that in a violent way, but that is  _ not  _ where her mind goes, and Faith’s lips are peeled back and her teeth are bared and Buffy is so, so done with everything right now, and she’s not sure how it happens, but somehow Faith is pressed against a particularly tall grave marker and is grinning like an animal.

“Finally snapping?” Faith asks.

“Shut up,” Buffy says through gritted teeth, and she kisses her.

Faith is not nice to her. Her nails are a little too long and Buffy’s shirt is a little too sleeveless and those two things don’t get along particularly well. Buffy reciprocates by biting on Faith’s lip, though, honestly, she’s not sure why she thought that would be a deterrent, because all it does is cause Faith to laugh into Buffy’s mouth and grab her shoulders harder.

She pulls back. “And here I thought I’d have to be dropping hints about how slaying gets me going for another month before you picked up on anything.”

“Technically,” Buffy argues, “it was actually the lack of slaying that broke me.”

“You’re so—”

Whatever insult Faith was planning on slinging Buffy’s way gets cut off with another kiss. It’s bruising, almost, and Buffy’s aware of Faith’s body against hers, aware of the lack of coverage the trees provide, aware that they could get found at any second.

She finds that she doesn’t really care, though, when Faith flips her around and starts mouthing at her neck. “Jesus,” Buffy says.

“Nah, just me,” Faith mumbles into her skin.

Buffy gives Faith’s arm a slap, but there’s no strength behind it, and, more importantly, there’s no anger behind it, either.

And Buffy’s seriously considering asking Faith if they can take it back to her place when she hears the telltale sound of soil breaking behind her.

She pushes Faith off of her quick as lightning and whips around to face the noise. She can feel lipstick smeared against her throat, against her lips, and it makes her face burn, but she does  _ not  _ have time to unpack whatever the hell just happened there, because a vampire is running full-force at her.

Buffy lunges at it, stake outstretched, but it slips out of range. And, now that it’s nearer, Buffy can see that this vampire is a middle-aged man who someone must have really hated, because they buried him in one of the most atrocious ties she’s ever had the misfortune to see.

“Damn,” she mumbles. “Really, when I kill you, I’m doing it for  _ you _ . No one deserves to suffer like that, even if they are a soulless monster.”

He falters. “What?”

“Your tie,” Buffy says, talking a little bit slower and a little bit louder than usual, trying to focus his attention on her. She pulls the remnants of her ponytail out—not that there’s much left of it after Faith’s attack. “It’s, well. To call it an eyesore would be a disservice to eyes. And sores.”

“Oh,” he says, examining the tie. “I– I didn’t think it was so bad. You really do?”

“I  _ know _ ,” Buffy assures him. “And, hey, look at me. I’m a teenage girl. I’m pretty much the ultimate go-to for all things fashion.”

“You know, my kid was telling me about that recently,” the vamp confides. He leans against his own gravestone, relaxed. “That I needed to get more “with the times”, or something. I don’t know. I think she thinks I’m still stuck in the days where a letter took two months and a horse-drawn carriage to be deli—”

His eyes go wide. There’s a stake sticking out of his chest, driven in from the back.

“You can thank us for ridding you of the tie later,” Buffy says, giving him a little wave as he dissolves into dust. “Or, no, wait. No, you can’t.”

Faith wipes her brow. “Nice goin’ there.”

“Makes up for earlier?”

“Wouldn’t go that far.”

They fall into step together, walking towards the exit of the cemetery. It’s about time to end patrol anyway, and, besides, Buffy’s pretty sure she can’t go another round of fighting.

“So,” Buffy says. “About earlier—”

“It’s whatever,” Faith says, waving her hand. “Stress relief. Bound to happen at some point. A one-time thing.”

“Right,” Buffy says, and then, through gritted teeth, before she can stop herself, she asks, “But what if it wasn’t?”

“Beg your pardon?”

Buffy can’t look Faith in the eye. “What if it, you know. Wasn’t. Just a one-time thing.” Her heart’s pounding in her chest, all the way down to her feet, and she isn’t sure what she’s asking, not really, but she knows that she couldn’t confine herself to  _ one-time-thing _ with Faith, infuriating as she is.

“What? Oh, you mean you’d be down to hook up again? Sure, B,” Faith grins, bumping her hip against Buffy’s. “I mean, you know where to find me after a fight.”

“Uh-huh,” Buffy says, and screams internally that she’s fine with the two of them being nothing more than that. She’s had a lot of practice lying over the years. She’s not always the most convincing, but she sure as hell can con herself.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! kudos/comments always appreciated. find me @commaperson on twitter.


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